Grassy steps led to an over-grown garden. Looking down Janice wondered who had built the walls and indeed, when those stony steps had last been used. The garden full of wild flowers was weed-choked but the sun filtered down invitingly. She began to descend, half-way down the stairs she stopped surprised.
Piercing the silence, a blood-curdling howl. Robin red-breast rises, screeching, into the sky.
She looked down the remaining stairs and saw a large brindled cat stride out from the undergrowth. Tail swishing she realized the hunter had lost his prey.
among the wildflowers
the hunt continues © G.s.k. ‘14
We are inspired by Georgia’s idyllic spring in this beautiful haibun. One feels the youth of spring and the adventures of nature in her writing. This is my attempt to write in this spirit.
That spring, long ago, they piled in one car to have lunch at la Cabane à sucre in Saint Grégoire ; five colleagues who formed close ties over the years. They had shared stories of their families, wept for their children and bragged about their successes. The drive was only ten minutes from the Clinique communautaire… enough time to laugh like teenagers with their banters. Enjoying this meal, they all remembered eating the first time in their grandmother’s kitchen, having savoured the smoked ham, rich thick omelettes and home baked beans, sprinkled with maple syrup. Les grandpères for dessert was their choice without any hesitation.
It was difficult to leave but work awaited and they stepped out onto the sparkling snow, breathing the cool fresh air among the maple trees spilling sap in tin pails. Every spring was the same sensation she felt of a new life and especially a renaissance of the heart. The sun warmed her face and she felt alive and free for a moment. “A pity we have to go back to work, les filles, it is a time to traipse in this glorious forest with a paramour!” Giggles echoed in the forest.
form diamonds on the snow
melt my heart
© Tournesol ’15